Ha Stupid
by inanyyotherworld
Summary: I thought that, on the thirty-first of October , I would know. I thought that on the worst day of my life, I would have a small tinkling that something wasn't right. Ha. Stupid. Rated T just incase.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to J.K. Rowling, the best author ever :)**

**Hermione's POV**

I always thought that, when the time came, my heart would know. Deep down, I thought that my heart would be wise enough to understand what had just occurred, and would tell me.

I thought wrong.

I was stupid. I should have known that He would find them. I should have known that, soon enough, my enchantments would wear off and they would realise who they were. Soon enough. The problem is I did know, however I was naïve enough to think that He would just let them go. Ha. Stupid. He didn't have mercy.

My Dad made a wooden swing for me that hung limply over the long, sturdy branch that protruded from the tall, wide oak tree in the back garden when I was five years old. I vividly remember the creaking sound it made when I applied weight to the seat. But it never faltered. Always swinging, always creaking. I sat on it every day from the day it was made. When I came to Hogwarts, I used my magic to create an identical swing in my common room that only I could see. That only I could hear. It was never the same. As much as I loved Hogwarts, I was always excited to come home for Christmas, just to sit on it again, and feel the breeze rush through my bushy long hair like I had never left.

I was a lonely child. My closest friends were my books, and I was always happy for their company. I remember one day in particular, sitting on the swing as it made its casual creaking noise. I had just been on my very first trip to Diagon Alley, and had one of my pristine new books sitting on my lap, eager for me to open the front cover and explore its contents. I was just as eager, so I hurriedly, yet gently, opened the cover to reveal the front page.

_Wizards And Witches Of Our Century  
><em>_By Jemima Liskwing_

I flipped over to the letter _H _and put the book flat on my lap. I closed my eyes and imagined my own name there. I imagined Miss Liskwing scrawling my successes and achievements down as if her life depended on it. This was the type of childhood that I led. I lived on hope, and my hope lived on knowledge, books and exams. When I finally opened my eyes and arrived back to reality, the first name I saw inscribed on the crisp page struck me.

_Harry James Potter (commonly known as 'The Boy Who Lived')_

_Funny_, I remember thinking, but not in a laugh out loud kind of way. _Funny_, as in, _curious. _I read the page about how his parents died in Godric's Hollow ten years ago. About how He Who Must Not Be Named tried to kill him too. About how he now lived with his Aunt and Uncle. About how he had an iconic lightening bolt scar etched into his forehead. On the following page there was a picture. I read the caption below it.

_Mr Potter doing muggle chores, unaware of his true identity as a wizard. He resides in Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey._

Suddenly, a noise above me said, "Book-worming, again Granger?" I didn't need to look up to know who it was. Shelby Crailsby. Before I could reply, I was looking down at an empty pair of hands. My eyes widened. "Riddle you give that back!" I yelled, standing up, flailing my arms around in vain in an attempt to get the book back. She ignored me, laughing.

"Oooh, who's Harry Potter, your girlfriend?" she said, sarcastically winking at me. This distracted her, giving me an opportunity to grab the book out of her arms, and shut it tight behind my back, and began to walk away. "You should know better Granger! I bet you'll never even have a friend let alone meet this Harry Potter person. Dream. On!" she yelled before walking away. I stood still, petrified yet shaking violently. I brought the book round to my middle and opened it up. I placed my arms below it with my hands at the top, lightly pressing the bottom of it into my stomach. I looked at his picture. Green eyes, messy black hair, round glasses. I knew I'd never meet him, but, in my heart, I had hope.

Then, a week or two later, I found myself face to face with him on the Hogwarts express. I knew they'd all been wrong about me. Especially Shelby Crailsby. I felt so amazing. I knew that I would stick by Harry's judgement, whether he liked me or not.

I knew that, after the Battle of Hogwarts, I should find them. Bring them home. Unwind the spell and hold them as if they never left. I thought back to the day I did it. I knew I had to. I knew I was doing the right thing. I remembered the day I told Harry what I'd done.

'"_I've also modified my parents' memories so that they're convinced they're really called Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life's ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That's to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me - or you, because unfortunately, I've told them quite a bit about you. Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't - well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don't know that they've got a daughter, you see."_

I thought that, on the thirty-first of October, I would know. I thought that, on the worst day of my life, I would have a small tinkling that something wasn't right.

I thought that, on the day that Monica and Wendell Wilkins - my Mum and Dad - died, I would be there to save them.

Ha. Stupid.


End file.
